It's time that makes us tall (John Hanlon)

Neil Young again from Waging Heavy Peace:

Old memories are wonderful things and should be held on to as long as possible, shared with others, and embellished if need be.

Here's a memory that just popped into my head the other day:

Back in 1975 I was in the sixth form at school: Mt Albert Grammar in Auckland, NZ. 

In those days we had a bizarre system of getting University Entrance (U.E. fer short). Schools could accredit students who they thought would pass the formal written examination. Those who they thought wouldn't pass had to actually sit the exam.

That sounds simple huh!

Of course schools were sneaky about who they accredited so that they got a good pass rate. It was common knowledge that they would often make a few students sit who they knew would pass. These students were just above the cut off line for accreditation. 

Waiting to see who had or had not been accredited was a tense period in the school. It was especially stressful for me because I'd failed the fifth form exam (called School Certificate or School C fer short) - and had to have two years in the fifth form (1973 and 1974).

I'd had a good year in English but I was in the very average category in my other subjects. I knew by my marks that I was in the dodgy middle section of the sixth form boys. It could go either way. 

Accreditation was done at the end of the year, almost. Accredited boys always had a few weeks left at school and they had a great time. Boys who had to sit their U.E. were miserable by comparison.

The sixth formers were herded into the gallery area of the school hall. If you've ever been to M.A.G.S. you'll know what an impressive beast the hall area is. The gallery was where the sixth and seventh formers sat during assembly.

Ron Hemus, the senior master, came in and read through the names.

And you know what? My name was in the accredited list. I was in a daze. I'd finally passed something first time. Amazing.

I drove back to our Mt Roskill home after school in such a happy mood. I remember feeling so great.

When I got home I parked the car in the under house garage and went to walk upstairs when my mum appeared. I just remember hugging her and feeling such joy. She was mighty proud of me and that made that moment for me. 

The memory will live in my head and heart forever.

There you go Neil - I've shared it with you (without any embellishment needed).

Love and peace - Wozza

Feathers fall around you and show you the way to go (Neil Young)

I am taking my time reading Waging Heavy Peace (Neil Young).

How cool is Neil? He's one cool cat, is how cool he is.

He's one of those unique people who can universally connect via his work - whether that's in music or his writing.

I have just read this economical bit on writing that I nodded to and said 'yeah' to out aloud!

Writing is very convenient, has a low expense, and is a great way to pass the time.

Yeah! (sorry - that was aloud again).

That's pretty much my response to my students who can't believe I publish a blog post every day on one of my four weblogs.

Actually I'm not as articulate as Neil. I just say - I love writing. But from now on I'm adopting Neil's sentence.

Love and (heavy) peace - Wozza

I'm so happy when you dance with me (The Beatles)

I've been thinking about happiness lately.

A recent post title was 'Enlightenment - don't know what it is' by Van Morrison. I'm pretty sure a number of us can share that confusion. But happiness? We DO know what that means, right?

A former student sent me a link to a site listing 'The Habits Of Supremely Happy People' http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/16/happiness-habits-of-exuberant-human-beings_n_3909772.html

From there I went via a TED talks link to a presentation by Dan Gilbert called The surprising science of happiness. It's lengthy but entertaining and interesting.
'


And so to me.

I was doing my Saturday cross trainer workout while watching The Last Waltz (loud) when Neil Young wandered on to sing Helpless. At one point he ambles over to Rick Danko's microphone. Robbie Robertson is also there and the three share the mic, singing Helpless (around the 3.30 min mark). Their happiness at that moment is clear to see.

I smiled big time as well. Real happiness.




Love and peace and happiness - Wozza

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums, should I leave them at your gate, or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

In this world that’s drowning in data, abstract written thought that represents a synthesis or a culmination of information into a digestible form is in short supply. That’s always been the prescription for poetry that matters.

I like this - it's from a post by a guy called Larry Sawyer. No, I don't know who he is either - probably like me, he enjoys the outlet of the blog. Larry uses his blog to publish his poetry. He's on the left if you want to read his stuff (under the blog title Me-Tronome). This post isn't about Larry though, or me. It's about poetry generally and Robert Bly in particular.

We are drowning in data aren't we. At school I look at data daily - suspension/ discipline data, achievement data, attendance data...and on and on. My English class teaching time is often the best part of my day. I can stretch myself a bit and think about things via that abstract written thought stuff Larry's on about.

I often think about poetry. moods and thoughts from all sorts of sources. Song lyrics make up a lot of thoughts. This post is titled from a Dylan song - Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands. A love poem set to music for his wife Sara. Another example? I watched a movie today called Snow Cakes. Set in Canada the main character says he's on his way to Winnipeg and I immediately have the Neil Young lines in my head from his song Don't Be Denied -

When I was a young boy,
My mama said to me
Your daddy's leavin' home today,
I think he's gone to stay.
We packed up all our bags
And drove out to Winnipeg.

And so to Robert Bly. I often think about lines from his poem 'Six Winter Privacy Poems'.

1
About four, a few flakes.
I empty the teapot out in the snow,
feeling shoots of joy in the new cold.
By nightfall, wind,
the
curtains on the south sway softly.

2
My shack has two rooms, I use
one.
The lamplight falls on my chair and table
and I fly into one of my
own poems -
I can't tell you where -
as if I appeared where I am now
in a wet field, snow falling.

3
More of the fathers are dying
each day.
It is time for the sons.
Bits of darkness are gathering around
them.
The darkness appears as flakes of light.

4
Sitting
Alone

There is a solitude like black mud!
Sitting in the
darkness singing,
I can't tell if this joy
is from the body, or the
soul, or a third place.

5
Listening to Bach

There
is someone inside this music
who is not well described by the names
of
Jesus, or Jehovah, or the Lord of Hosts!

6
When I woke, new snow had
fallen.
I am alone, yet someone else is with me,
drinking coffee,
looking out at the new snow.

Many of Bly's recurring images/phrases/words are here - rebirth, snow, darkness, solitude, light...But, for me, the synthesis is pretty perfect in this poem. I love the simplicity of lines lines like, 'About four, a few flakes' and the Thoreau like idea of his shack having the luxury of two rooms but he only ever is in one!

This one also resonates for me:

After Long Busyness

I start out for a walk at last after weeks
at the desk.
Moon gone, plowing underfoot, no stars; not a trace of
light!
Suppose a horse were galloping toward me in this open field?
Every day I
did not spend in solitude was wasted.

It's almost haiku like. Again the simplicity and clarity of expression make him
stand out for me. Did I mention haikus? Ok - so, here's one of mine to
finish
off this post:

The door is half closed,
dividing the dark and light,
'till morning comes again.

Love and peace and solitude - W